


A Tale of Two Harries

by candleinthew1nD



Category: British Singers RPF, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Borderline Personality Disorder, Depression, Fame, Gen, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, I Don't Even Know, I Tried, POV Female Character, POV First Person, Self-Destruction, Self-Harm, Self-Worth Issues, Suicide Attempt, This Is STUPID, Welcome to the fandom, Why Did I Write This?, whatever, yeah - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-12 14:00:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29885637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/candleinthew1nD/pseuds/candleinthew1nD
Summary: Harry Styles intervenes to save the life of a suicidal young woman and deals with the aftermath.
Kudos: 1





	1. Sign of the Times

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all, I'm new to the fandom. I guess you could say that. I have been a lowkey fan of Harry's for about a year, ever since he released _Fine Line,_ and am just now listening to all of One Direction's music, after getting all five of their albums for a steal.

At the risk of sounding melodramatic, my life was forever changed on the day that I tried to end it. Looking back, I can clearly draw a line to divide my life from before and after I met him.

**_Him_**? Good grief, even writing such a thing makes me feel a little bit sick. 

I can assure you, dear readers, that this is not one of those trite, trashy tales written by desperately bored, unoriginal fangirls with too much time on their hands. Wait, that's not really fair. It's honestly really judgmental...and kind of bitchy.

Okay, fine, fair enough. Let's start over.

Hello, readers, one and all. Ladies, gentlemen, and non-binary or gender nonconforming. Since I'm going to be telling you an awful lot of stuff, I guess I should start with my name. Here goes:

My full Christian name is Mary Louise Harris, but since I was a toddler I've answered to "Harry." I am 19-going-on-20 years old, my DOB is April 1, blah, blah, blah. I won't bore you by going on and on about my physical appearance. Suffice it to say I'm a brunette, kind of short, and kind of fat.

I was born and raised in a very small, very conservative, very boring small town in the Southern United States. I had a pretty decent, normal childhood overall. My parents didn't beat me, I wasn't starved or neglected, and I never wanted for anything in a material sense.

I had everything I needed, yet I was always deeply unhappy. 

Maybe it was the fact that my dad was always working. Maybe it was because my mom was too critical. Maybe my older brother was too much of an asshole. Whatever the reason, a month to the day after my 19th birthday, I quit my cushy little job at the supermarket, dropped out of my reputable religious liberal arts university, cleared out my bank accounts, and bought a one-way ticket to the United Kingdom.

England, in particular, and the small port city of Dover in South East England, specifically. I doubt any of you care, but I chose this place because the white cliffs of Dover are beautiful, and I couldn't think of a better, more picturesque last sight to have before I plunged into a watery grave in the English Channel.

I first saw the cliffs in the old 80's movie _The Princess Bride_ , and then again a few years ago in that TV show with not one, but two actors who ended up playing the Doctor. _Broadchurch_ , I think it was called...

Anyway, I stopped at a little café for a last meal of fish and chips, a quintessential English snack. That done, I quietly went about my business and walked right to the edge of the cliffs. Staring down into the vast, deep water, I faltered for a moment.

In that one moment, my life irrevocably changed when I heard someone politely clear their throat to let me know I was no longer alone.

"Excuse me, love? Sorry. Whatever you're thinking about doing, don't. I think you'll find deep down that you really don't want to."

I flinched, startled, and craned my neck to look behind me. As God, or fate, or luck - as whoever or whatever would have it - the low, slow drawl belonged to none other than one Harry Edward Styles, the youngest and arguably most beloved and successful darling of the most beloved and successful pop band since the Beatles - or maybe of all time.

The colossal sales of their albums, concerts and merchandise notwithstanding, there were of course a lot of naysayers and critics who rolled their eyes and dismissed Harry and the other members of One Direction as pretty boy teen idols, etc., etc.

There were those guys, the hardcore fans and haters at each extreme, and then there were the people who had heard of the band, listened to "What Makes You Beautiful" and "One Thing" when they came on the radio, liked the songs, but didn't bother to look into their other music. People who were more or less indifferent. People like me.

"Whoa. That dude at the café must have laced my tea with something. Either that, or I'm just really losing it. Eh, who cares? In a few seconds it won't matter."

Harry Styles - the hallucination of Harry Styles- frowned and his eyebrows furrowed. "You're American."

"Yup, born and raised in the good old US of A. Three cheers for the red, white and blue, and all that crap. Don't hold it against me, dude. I'm just American by nationality. I had no choice in where I was born."

"No, of course not. I meant nothing by it. It's just an observation. Can I ask you a question?"

"Um, yeah."

"Okay. What's your name?"

"Uh..." I laughed and tugged at the collar of my shirt awkwardly. "Why do you want to know that?"

"Well, it's only polite. But I think I know what you mean. Here you are, trying to go about your business, and a random stranger stops you and starts chatting up a storm. Alright, I'll tell you my name, and you tell me yours. My name's Harry."

"Okay...you're gonna think I'm full of it, but...so is mine."

"Really? That's cool."

"Yeah. I mean, it's not really my name, but it's what everybody calls me."

"Alright, then. Hello, Harry. It's nice to meet you, though I wish it had been in more pleasant circumstances."

"Why's that? Aside from the fact that I'm about to subject you to the trauma of seeing someone commit suicide in front of you. You'll be fine, dude. You're loaded. You can afford the therapy and pills and booze to deal with it. I'm nothing and no one to you."

Harry Styles held up his hands. "Look, I hear what you're saying. I do; But I want to hear more. Please, let me buy you a coffee, or something. Let's get out of here, just for a little while. You do that, and if afterwards you're still set on it, I'll bring you back here and leave you to it. What do you say?"

"Okay, fine. Whatever."


	2. Save You Tonight

It was later than I thought. The sun began to set as Harry and I walked along the path toward town, the sky turning into a palette of red and orange with small flecks of purple. The first few minutes of our walk passed in an uncomfortable silence - at least on my part - as I struggled not to stare into the man's eyes, which were beautifully distracting. They were green, a shade close to if not exactly the same color as the leaves in the trees, or the color of the sea after a storm.

My desperate attempts to avoid looking directly at him were thwarted when Harry abruptly stopped in the middle of the path and turned to me. "I've just got a text from my PA. It seems the only place that's still open in the city is a little place about 30 minutes away on foot. And I've realized that maybe us going out into an open, public space might not be quite what you want. Actually, I'm quite sure it's the last thing you'd want now. Or, am I wrong?"

"No, you're right," I wrapped a strand of hair around my finger and tugged it nervously. "I don't generally like being out in public, anyway. God, that makes me sound like a creeper or like I'm antisocial or something. I am, don't get me wrong. I hate people, basically. And you're like, pardon me for saying it, but you're more popular than Jesus, pretty much. John Lennon wasn't wrong when he said the Beatles were in the 60's, and now you are. I mean, the band was...you know what? I'm just gonna stop talking now."

"Oh no, please. I'd rather you didn't. I did tell you that I wanted to hear more from you, after all."

Harry yawned and tilted his head to the side. I cringed a little as his neck cracked. "It's not my usual setup, but I am staying at the Best Western in Dover. Do you mind if we go to the café at the hotel? I'll have to phone my agent to get us a lift. You're right, just being seen near me would effectively shine a spotlight on your life. Your picture would be all over the papers, all over the world.

"Yeah." I rubbed the back of my neck. Then, when I thought a little more about it, my face reddened in anger as I made a realization. "You did this on purpose. You lured me away from the cliffs, knowing that the minute I'm seen with you, I'll be in the limelight, for better or worse. Admit it."

"Fine, you caught me. That was exactly what I had in mind." He grinned and winked at me mischievously, and in that moment I could see why he would be able to get away with anything. Even if he weren't among the most popular singers/actors/entertainers in the world, he looked so childlike and trustworthy that even if he were a nobody, I would probably forgive him.

His smile faded as abruptly as it had appeared when he looked down and saw my bandaged forearm. "What's that?"

Damn. I had hoped he wouldn't notice.

"You've hurt yourself," Harry went on.

I nodded and stared out at him through the curtain of my hair. He was going to keep talking about it, wheedling me until I agreed with him.

"Trouble with your significant other?" he asked gently.

I nodded to this, too.

"Good God. You've cut yourself." This wasn't a question. His chin quivered and his eyes flashed as he carefully reached out toward me, as if afraid he would frighten me. "You've hurt yourself!"

"Um, yeah. Why do you sound so upset? Harry, when you met me less than an hour ago, I was standing on the edge of a cliff, about to jump off into the English Channel. There's like, no way I would survive that."

"Oh." Harry exhaled deeply, his breath rustling my face and hair. He took his cell phone out of the pocket of his jacket and sent a text, his thumbs rapidly tapping the screen in a rhythmic staccato that was almost soothing.

I have often thought of the next ten minutes - my last ten minutes of freedom. I felt a momentary urge, once, to just turn around and walk away from him, back toward the cliffs, not stopping until I stepped off and into the open air.

I could have spoken up, could have said something. I could have lied to him, said I wouldn't hurt myself anymore, that I'd never even _think_ about killing myself again, but I couldn't. I was too tired.

The loud ringing sound of a doorbell alerted Harry to a new text. He read it, and the corners of his mouth curled up in that grin again, like the Cheshire Cat ( _How appropriate,_ I thought to myself, _that he's actually **from** Cheshire_.) He smiled down at me, as if he was pleased with himself.

"I've got you a room," he said. "Right across from mine. You have to come back with me. You need to rest. Just for a couple of nights, okay?" He sounded wistful, like he was pleading with me.

"No," I bit my lip and shook my head. "You said we were just going to get a drink. You said I could go back to what I was doing after, if I still wanted to."

"Forget it!" Harry slung an arm over my shoulders and held me in place. "No way. You're coming with me. We're going to the hotel, or I can phone 999 and have you put in hospital. There are a few mental health clinics right here in Dover. It's your choice: hotel or hospital. Which is it going to be, **_Harry_**?" He scowled.

"Okay, fine. I'll come with you." 

"Thank you." Harry took me by the elbow, sinking his fingernails into my skin. We stood at the edge of a clearing, far from any roads, having nothing more to say to each other. When a gray four-door Lincoln Town Car suddenly drove up and parked, he tightened his grip on my arm. He opened the back door and shoved me in, climbing in after me. 

Harry leaned against the backseat for a second, then slammed the door shut. He took a deep breath and buckled his seatbelt, reaching across the seat to buckle mine as well. 

"Take us back to the hotel. Turn on the child safety locks until we get there." 

I sighed and let my head fall back against the seat as I closed my eyes. 

I was glad someone had found me and answered my cry for help, as it were. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still not sure exactly what this is.


	3. Little Things

_This isn't real. None of this is real. It can't be; any minute now, I'll hear my alarm go off and wake up in my own bed._

That was what I desperately repeated to myself, the thought a mantra in my mind during the 5-minute ride back to the hotel. There was just no way any of this was actually happening. 

I had never actually gone to England in the first place. Harry Styles had not actually seen me about to kill myself and stepped in to save me. No one gave a crap about me, so why would he?

By the time the car came to a stop in the parking garage, I had decided the heck with it and to just go along with whatever happened in this crazy, trippy dream I was having. Dreamy trip. Whatever you wanted to call it.

I shrieked when I felt a hand on my shoulder, I was so out of it. Harry grimaced and brought a finger to his lips. "Hush, do you want to wake everyone up? I brought you here because the whole idea is to maintain some level of anonymity."

"Yikes, crap. Sorry!" I sniffled and smiled, hoping against hope that I would be able to stop myself from crying. Fat chance.

"Hey," he sputtered. "Harry, no. Don't be. I'm sorry. Look, I dunno what you've been through, what led you to the edge of those cliffs ready to jump off. I don't know, and listen to me, I don't care."

"Whoa." I wiped the sleeve of my jacket across my face, staining the cotton in tears and snot. "Careful how you use that word, man. I mean, taken the wrong way, it sounds like...you know."

"Oh, bloody hell." Harry scoffed and rolled his eyes. "You know what I mean. Whatever has happened, I'm not going to judge you for it. Aside from the fact that you're a little bit depressed, I don't know the first thing about you, do I? Well, except maybe your nationality, and that you somehow seem to be impervious to my charms. I must be losing my touch."

"Oh no, nothing of the sort. If anything, I have to wonder if you're a wizard or a mindreader or something. I was just trying to figure out why, of all people, you would make the effort to stop a perfect stranger from doing...that. Not only are you cute and funny, you rescue people in perilous predicaments. Sadie's right, you're like a freaking Disney prince!"

"Sadie's my cousin," I explained before he could ask. "She's a few years older than me. She was the hardcore Directioner in the family. She's loved you since the X-Factor days. Oh man, when she finds out I've actually met you in the flesh, she'll probably kill me. It'll be more gruesome than if you had let me take the fall."

"Er, that's terrible." Harry smiled wanly and turned his head to the driver. "Unlock the doors, mate. I'm here, she'll be fine."

The driver nodded and pushed a button. Harry reached across the seat and opened my door. "Alright. Get out." His tone was stern. In spite of his reputation as an all around nice guy, I knew not to push it.

"Okay." I unbuckled the seatbelt and got out of the car, standing awkwardly with my hands clasped behind my back. I waited while Harry got out and shut the door. He came up behind me, placed his hand on my back, and pushed me. "Let's go. Walk straight ahead where I tell you." 

"Alright." I went where I was bid, through the garage and through the front doors of the hotel lobby. I never spoke, but merely obeyed Harry's instructions, murmured quietly into my ear all the way.

When we stepped into the elevator, I watched with mild interest as Harry pressed the button for the twelfth floor. Of course I knew that hotels typically do not have a thirteenth floor, but I was somewhat superstitious and felt uneasy at the close proximity to the unlucky number. 

When the doors opened, I stood rooted to the spot and had to be pushed out into the hallway. "Go on, then. I hate to be rude, but I'm getting pretty hungry. Let's order room service."

"Okay." I hung back as Harry reached into his pocket for the keycard, slipping it into the handle to Room 124. He opened the door and flipped the switch. The room was small, with a single bed, a bureau, a TV, a half bath, and a small loveseat in the corner.

"It's not much, but it'll have to do, and I'm right across the hall in 134. I'll stay to have tea and something to eat with you, and then I'll say goodnight. Do you know what you want, or do you need to look at the menu?"

"No, I just want a grilled cheese sandwich and a Diet Coke. What are you having?"

"Tacos and tea. If we're going to sit down and have a meal together, we might as well get to know each other a little better. Now, where should we start?"

"Um, well...what's your favorite color? Mine's blue."

"Really? Mine, too. That and orange. It's kind of a tossup." He yawned and sat down on the loveseat.

"You can have more than one favorite. There's no rule that says you can't. How about food? What's your favorite? Or what are your favorites?"

"Tacos, I guess. I'm going to go out on a limb here and say yours is a grilled cheese sandwich?"

"Close. It's actually just cheese. Well, actually it's a tie between cheese and beef ramen. The instant kind that you just have to add boiling water to and dump the sauce packet in. It's really popular in America, but I don't know if you have the same kind of thing here in the UK."

"You mean like cup noodles? Yeah, we have them, too. You Americans don't have a monopoly on unhealthy junk food. You poor child, you've really never traveled _anywhere_ , have you?"

"Hey, I'm not a child! I'm 19, I'll have you know."

"Oh dear, my apologies. 19, eh? Only seven years younger than me. I am absolutely **mortified**."

He stuck out the tip of his tongue to soften the blow of his sarcasm. At that instant, there was a knock at the door. Harry winked at me and went to open it.

He came back with a small silver platter that had a wrapped taco, sandwich, a can of Diet Coke, and a little white cup of tea on a blue-and-white speckled saucer.

"Careful," I said when he put the platter down on the end of the bed. The movement lightly jostled the teacup, and a few drops splashed onto the saucer. I leaned down and wiped the dish with the edge of my sleeve.

Harry smirked and sat down on the bed cross-legged. "You're joking, right? It wasn't even that bad of a spill."

"I know, sorry. I can't help it. I've just always had a major issue with messes of any kind. I guess that explains why I was so good at my job."

"Oh yeah?" Harry's brow furrowed. "What was that?"

"I was a cashier in a grocery store. Although, maybe that job title is a bit of a misnomer. I didn't just check people out and bag their stuff. I did janitorial stuff, too. Cleaning the aisles, the bathrooms, what have you. Took out the trash. Gosh, when I actually say it out loud, it all sounds unbearably boring."

"Not at all. It takes all sorts of people to make the world go 'round. Oh God, sorry, that was so cliché. Look, it sounds like bollocks, but it's true. Think of it like this: if you weren't there, people would actually have to put stuff in bags _themselves_. People hate having to do things for themselves. And if you're this particular about a few drops of tea, I can only imagine how thoroughly you clean the store. Cleaned. Judging by your use of the past tense, I guess you don't work there anymore."

"You guessed right. I didn't really see much point in keeping the job, since I had been pretty set on taking a trip to Davy Jones's locker. I used every red cent I had saved up on the plane and train tickets here. There's no going back for me, now. I don't know what I'm going to do next."

"Yikes. That's a bit of a sticky situation." Harry opened his mouth in a yawn that ended in a sneeze that would have upended the tea, if I hadn't picked up the platter in time. He sniffed and smiled sheepishly.

"Well, let's eat before the food gets cold. Let's brainstorm and see what we can come up with."


	4. (Let's Start) Over Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The End

"I can't do this. I don't want to. Harry, please don't make me do this."

Harry sighed sadly and crossed his arms. "You're an adult. Legally, you don't have to do anything. But, what other choice do you have? I suppose you could stay in Dover, try to get a job and stay in a hostel until you can afford a flat. Or, you can go to this place in Surrey for a little while, rest and recuperate, and I'll buy you a ticket to fly you back to the States when your stay's over. It's your decision."

"You make it sound so easy. Like you weren't strewn across the floor in a sleeping bag in front of the door to block me leaving the room when I woke up this morning. Like we aren't sitting here in a rented car ready to ride two hours to this rehab place in Surrey. It seems I've already made up my mind."

Harry laughed and flicked the tip of my nose lightly. "You have, and you haven't. I think you realize what the logical choice is. You just need a little help to see it through."

"And that's where you come in. Thanks for sticking with me, I guess. You didn't have to step in to save me, you know. You could have just let me jump. Why did you?"

"Call it a 'heroic impulse,' call it 'altruism,' call it whatever the heck you want. I just couldn't stand idly by and let someone literally kill herself in front of me. I won't prattle on about there being 'so much to live for,' 'suicide doesn't end the pain, it just passes it on to someone else,' etc. I meant what I said, you'll hear no preaching, judging, or sanctimonious platitudes from me. I just want you to feel better...Harry. Sorry love, with all that's happened, I've somehow forgot your name - your real name, I mean."

I smiled. "You've done no such thing. I never gave you my full name." I reached across the seat and held out my hand. "Hello, my name is Mary Louise Harris."

Harry smiled back and took my hand. "Hello there, my name is Harry Edward Styles."

He turned to the driver, who was reading a text on his phone.

"Go on then, mate. We'd better get started if we're going to make it to Surrey by nightfall."

And, dear readers, we did make it there.

_The End_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eh, this was very short and kind of trashy. But, since it's my first story in this fandom, I'll cut myself some slack. There was no point or plot to this, but maybe in the future I will write something better.


End file.
